


layered

by theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes



Series: understanding [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Self-Esteem Issues, Suicidal Ideation, drop an f for your witcher, geralt's awkward attempts at caring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 08:07:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22232836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes/pseuds/theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes
Summary: So many people need to be the main character in their own personal tragedy. Jaskier has spent his entire life running from that.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: understanding [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603279
Comments: 109
Kudos: 1474





	layered

**Author's Note:**

> onions...... have layers. ogres........ have layers. jaskier would prefer not to have layers but like the ogre and the onion he's got em

As much as he wishes it, no one’s one dimensional. 

And he does wish it. Jaskier wants to be comedic relief. Jaskier wants, you know, to be a silly bard who fucks and laughs and doesn’t get hurt because that’s not funny. He wants to be a silly interlude, a bright flash, someone who comes into town and fucks your wife and leaves when you get pissed and nothing more. He doesn’t want his own past and he doesn’t terribly want his own future because he wants, he wants, he wants his present to be as simple and lively as he can make it. 

And he works for it, he does! He puts in the effort! He chatters and fucks and when he’d found a Witcher he’d latched on because he’d known, he’d _known_ that a Wticher means adventure and a Witcher doesn’t necessarily mean a future. And Geralt, really, he’s shockingly lovely, and he gets Jaskier’s best ever songs, and Jaskier is so, so happy to be a side character- a funny side character, sure, but an unimportant one- in a Witcher’s long, lovely tale. Jaskier is happy enough to die and be a footnote, or live and spread the White Wolf’s good deeds. He doesn’t need-

So many people need to be the main character in their own personal tragedy. Jaskier has spent his entire life running from that. 

It’s just, sometimes, when he’s lying on the forest floor and sticks are poking into his back, and Geralt’s across the fire already asleep and snoring, and Roach has her head down and her eyes closed, and the trees are so, so quiet- 

There’s no one to preform in front of. Jaskier’s never counted himself, really, but he _tries_ , for a while, and he tries to keep up some jokes in his head, and then he tries to sleep, and then when that turns desperate he stops. Pretending to no one feels pathetic. 

No distractions. 

He thinks about picking up his lute, but his arms feel heavy and tired at his sides, and he thinks about shifting onto his side but there’s no one to preform in front of so he stays on his back.

He wants, so terribly, to be as happy and careless as he pretends to be. He’d give up anything. Food, wine, fucking. His stupid fancy clothes, patched carefully along the seams. But here, like this, alone in the forest, he feels so fucking _empty_ , and he doesn’t know why. He reaches for his silly stupidity and comes up with nothing, nothing, nothing again and again- if he pricked himself would he bleed? Is this the price he pays for creating himself as he would like best to be? 

In the daytime, in the nighttime, surrounded by people with their eyes on him, he’d pay it again and again. He wants, craves, needs attention like he needs air- more than that. More than anything in the world. Alone- 

Well. 

He’s cut bloody crescents into his palms, so he’ll have to get up and wash them out before sunrise. That’s fine. Geralt won’t ask. 

-

Silly, reckless bard. 

-

He gets hurt playing distraction. 

Really, he wasn’t supposed to be playing distraction. He was supposed to sit quietly by the trees, and Geralt had even made him leave his lute back in the room to make sure he’d stay quiet. Jaskier had joked that wow, it looks like Geralt really does care, and Geralt hadn’t said anything, and so he’d continued in that vein until Geralt told him to stay put and disappeared. Which is fine, totally. So he sits, and sits, and sits, and bounces his legs, and listens to far off crashing, which is... coming closer?

Oh, it’s definitely coming closer. Jaskier only has time to sit a little straighter before Geralt comes rolling into his little clearing with an honest to god-

Well, there’s a something attached to his back. It sort of looks like a wolf, if a wolf was enormous and all rotted from head to tail. Jaskier does a little bit of gaping, and Geralt lets loose a grunt that sounds _pained_ , and in a flash of sick clarity Jaskier sees the wolf-thing’s maw clamp down on Geralt’s forearm. The Witcher’s sword is feet away, and he’s scrabbling for it, but it’s too far, and-

Jaskier can picture in sick, sweet clarity what will happen as he gets to his feet. He finds that the outcome- dying with his throat on the ground, most likely- isn’t all too distressing. 

It’s over in just a few moments- from Jaskier’s loud _”hey”_ , the rock thrown that thunks in a hollow sort of way off the beast’s skull, the way it turns and growls and leaps as one motion. A flash of pain, a flash of steel, pretty red blood. 

“Jaskier, you fool,” Geralt growls, massive hand spanning over Jaskier’s belly to hold everything in, and he just gives him a smile and tries- fails, but _tries_ \- to pat his arm. 

“‘S okay,” he says- licks his teeth, tastes iron. He can’t stop smiling, even though he’s sure it looks gruesome- he’s just so _happy_. Not scared, not empty, attention on him him him and not even preforming a little bit. Although- okay, last words. Make them pretty, make them count. Except he can’t really think. “‘S okay, Geralt. Was getting _so_ tired anyways.” 

It’s not great. Whatever. He closes his eyes. 

-

He wakes up. 

It’s a moment before he feels anything but disappointment without even knowing why. He’s on a bed, which is nice, and he’s warm, which is nice as well. He doesn’t think there’s anyone in here with him, which is sort of a letdown even though it’s not the worst thing in the world, and his mouth is terribly dry. He opens his mouth, licks his lips, tries to think. 

Oh. He’s not dead. 

A beat. Two. The room is quiet, but for the crackling of the fire. He tries to sit up, winces as a shot of pain tears through him, and when he opens his eyes Geralt’s right there. 

Like, staring at him. Those golden cat’s eyes are narrowed into slits, and Jaskier can only stare for a moment before he opens his mouth and tries to say something. It comes out as a croak, and Jaskier winces, because it’s just so fucking awkward, and what had he _said_ to make Geralt look at him like that? He knows the Witcher has feelings, because Geralt’s fucking terrible at pretending he doesn’t, but usually those feelings aren’t directed at him. Usually they’re directed at, you know. Yennefer, or innocent people fucked over by the world, or- well, just people who aren’t him. He tries to speak again, to ask what happened, who died, why does he _look_ like that, but Geralt silences him with his glare. 

“I thought there might be something wrong.” 

Okay. Unexpected. Jaskier blinks up at him, and then blinks to the side of him. “I’m sorry?” 

“Hmm.” Geralt backs off, a little, which is a relief and also not a relief because all that _attention_ is intoxicating. He looks like he’s turning something over in his head, but Jaskier isn’t sure if he’ll speak again until: “With you.” 

A beat. Two beats. Jaskier tries to laugh but it comes out strained- is he drugged? He feels drugged. The ache in his belly is muted and soft and far away. “I mean. I _did_ just get torn open by a- whatever that thing was,” he points out. “And I think someone gave me something. And- and-” he searches for more. The words are slippery and hard to grasp, like they’re covered in silk. Silk, right. “And my clothes are ruined, aren’t they? Some thanks I get-” 

“You wanted to die,” Geralt says, as matter of fact as always. Jaskier closes his mouth. Opens it again. 

“I- what?” 

“You talk in your sleep.” 

“No I don’t,” says Jaskier automatically, and then he closes his eyes because what? That might be the stupidest thing he’s ever said, and so obviously not the point besides. “I mean-” 

Geralt doesn’t look pleased to be having this conversation, but then again he doesn’t look pleased to be having any conversation. His lips are pursed, and he studies Jaskier like he’s a puzzle. Jaskier isn’t supposed to be a puzzle. He’s supposed to be a bard, and a side character, and a comedy. He opens his mouth again and Jaskier cuts him off with a hand half raised.

“Please don’t.” 

The Witcher blinks at him, and his are too knowing for Jaskier’s liking. He doesn’t want to need to be known. He feels very, very tired, suddenly. Old and stupid and tired and alive. “I didn’t die. Let’s leave it at that.” 

“And will you seek it?” 

Jaskier almost laughs, because he doesn’t _want_ to be having this conversation. He wants to be doing anything else. He wants to sleep, and when he wakes up he wants everything to go back to normal. “Geralt, really, I-” 

“Will you seek it?” 

A pause. He closes his eyes. “No.” 

Geralt nods, and starts to get off the bed before he hesitates. “Hmm. Jaskier.” Silence but for the fire. It’s very still in here- very calm, like the world is often not. He’d like to go back to sleep, he thinks. In a moment. “You are a good man. A good friend. I wouldn’t like to do this without you.”

When Jaskier opens his eyes in pleased surprise, Geralt’s already slipping out of the room. 

**Author's Note:**

> its about making a comedic relief character feel bad things!!! its about geralt awkwardly caring!! its about me just projecting Violently onto jaskier because i too am annoying and loud in public and sad as hell in private. as ever this is unedited because of im lazy. pls drop a comment if u like it attention is the only thing that keeps me going
> 
> ALSO shoot me a prompt or smth on tumblr at redjewelsforeyes.tumblr.com i will worship the ground you stand on


End file.
